Rejected Mate's New Beginning

The next morning, I arrived at the bakery before dawn, my hands working the dough with practiced precision. Every punch and fold helped quiet the storm raging inside me since yesterday's encounter. Luna was still cowering in the recesses of my mind, whimpering occasionally at the memory of Ethan's scent.

"You're going to murder that poor dough," Clara commented as she tied her apron. My only human friend and employee raised an eyebrow at me. "Same nightmare again?"

I forced a smile. "Something like that."

What I couldn't tell her was that my nightmare had walked through the front door yesterday, in an expensive suit with eyes that still haunted me. That the father of my child had stood mere inches from me, and neither of us had said what needed to be said.

The bell chimed precisely at eight, and a tall, broad-shouldered man with a stern expression entered. I recognized him immediately—Leo, Ethan's Gamma. My stomach dropped.

"Good morning," he said formally. "I'm here to pick up an order for the Silvermoon Pack. Alpha Ethan requested two dozen assorted pastries for pack training."

I felt Clara's curious gaze on me as I stiffened. Pack training? The Silvermoon territory was at least thirty minutes away. These pastries would be cold by the time they arrived.

"I don't recall receiving an order," I said carefully.

Leo's expression remained neutral. "It was placed last night. The Alpha was quite specific."

Of course he was. This wasn't about pastries—this was Ethan marking his territory, sending his scent into my space. My wolf trembled, caught between longing and fear.

"I'll box them up," I muttered, turning away before Leo could see the flush creeping up my neck.

As I filled the box, Danny emerged from the back room where he'd been coloring. His little nose twitched, and he looked toward Leo with undisguised curiosity.

"You smell like the coffee man," he announced.

Leo's eyes widened slightly as they fixed on my son, no doubt noting the dark hair and strong jawline that mirrored his Alpha's. I quickly ushered Danny back toward the kitchen.

"Go finish your drawing, sweetie," I said, my voice tight.

When I handed Leo the box, our eyes met briefly. There was knowledge there, and something like sympathy.

"The Alpha sends his regards," he said quietly. "He'll be requiring daily orders from now on."

And so began the siege.

Every morning for the next week, Leo arrived precisely at eight to collect Ethan's order. Each day, the pastries were different, but the message was the same: I am here. I am not going away.

"You're going to break that rolling pin," Clara observed on the seventh day, watching me attack a sheet of puff pastry. "Want to tell me what's really going on with Mr. Daily Order?"

I sighed, my hands trembling slightly as I set down the pin. "It's complicated."

"The way you react when his man comes in? The way your son sniffs the air after he leaves? Doesn't seem that complicated to me." Clara crossed her arms. "He's Danny's father, isn't he?"

The dough beneath my fingers tore. "How did you—"

"I have eyes, Sophia. And that guy who spilled coffee all over himself last week? He looked at Danny like he was seeing a ghost."

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of five years of secrets pressing down on me. "He doesn't know. About Danny."

"Don't you think he should?"

Before I could answer, the bell chimed—not at eight, but at ten, when the morning rush had cleared. My head snapped up, and there he was.

Ethan stood in the doorway, alone this time. No Leo, no buffer between us. His Alpha aura filled the small space, making the few remaining customers shift uncomfortably in their seats.

Clara squeezed my arm. "I'll watch Danny," she whispered, disappearing into the back.

Ethan approached the counter, placing a silver box on its surface—one of my own bakery boxes, returned. His fingers brushed mine as he pressed a single cherry tart into my palm.

"Your favorite," he said quietly. "You used to make these just for me."

The touch of his skin against mine sent an electric current up my arm. Luna stirred, lifting her head for the first time in days, drawn to the mate bond that still pulsed between us.

I stepped back instinctively, clutching the tart like it might burn me. "What do you want, Ethan?"

His eyes—those piercing eyes that had once looked at me with such tenderness—hardened slightly. "Five years of answers would be a start."

The tart crumbled in my grip as I fought to keep my composure. "I don't owe you anything."

"Don't you?" he challenged, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Your scent hasn't changed, Sophia. You're still my mate. My wolf still recognizes you." His gaze flicked toward the kitchen door. "And now there's another scent. One that's... familiar, yet not."

My blood turned to ice. How much did he suspect? How close was I to losing everything I'd built?